


The Scarlet Witch

by Evanthe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Scarlet Witch (Comic), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Becoming the Scarlet Witch, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Magic, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), The Wanda We Deserve, Travel, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Wanda really likes whiskey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:46:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evanthe/pseuds/Evanthe
Summary: Warning! Contains spoilers for Avengers: Infinity WarIt's been almost a year since the incident, and everyone is still reeling from the aftermath. Wanda has retreated into herself and into the bottle of whiskey that almost never leaves her side.  Desperate to run away from the past that haunts her, Wanda finds herself on an unexpected journey that just may lead her to discover who she's meant to be.





	1. An Unexpected Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War. You have been warned! 
> 
> This fic was born because Wanda has always been my favorite Marvel character. We've seen but a taste of her power in the MCU, and it's not nearly enough. So, with this fic I'm writing the Wanda solo film I would want to see. The Wanda We Deserve.

There was a tiny yellow stone in the forehead of the man she loved. It glowed with a golden hue, enabling the hand that reached out to brush the hair from her face. Sometimes when he laughed it would shine a little brighter, as if the sun itself was smiling down upon her. Wanda smiled as she reached out to touch it, feeling the energy pulse between them. Vision closed his eyes and sighed, and the two of them laid there in peace. 

There was a tiny yellow stone in the forehead of the man she loved, until there wasn’t anymore. He had pleaded with her to do it - it was the only way to prevent Thanos from taking it himself. He had pleaded and Wanda relented, even though it felt like she was ripping out her own heart. And what had it all been for, anyway? Thanos still got it in the end, and nearly destroyed them all. 

She saw Vision’s smiling face floating in front of her, calling out her name. Wanda… Wanda… His face morphed into a cruel smile, laughing until it was only the Mad Titan in front of her. 

 

Wanda gasped and sat straight up in her bed. There were tears stinging her eyes as her mind slowly came to terms with the fact that she had been dreaming again. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a dreamless night, or when sleep had actually brought her the rest her soul craved. Everything seemed like a nightmare these days. 

Wanda swung her legs off the bed, acknowledging that there would be no more rest for her today. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as she stepped around the bedroom she had once shared with Vision, and she shivered against the morning chill. She pulled on a thick, woolen sweater - it had been one of his - and padded through the house to the kitchen. Her motions were automatic now; the kettle was on the stove, eggs were cracked over a frying pan without needing to spare a thought. 

Wanda thought about the elaborate meals they used to prepare for one another. From the very first time he attempted to prepare her paprikash, disaster that it turned out to be, they had explored the world of food. It never seemed to matter that he did not partake in the meals - it was preparing them that counted. These days, she lived off of fried eggs and toast, perhaps pasta when she had the energy. It was simpler this way. 

The kettle whistled her a tune as she removed it and poured the hot water into a teacup in one swift motion. The tea began to form swirls in her cup as the leaves steeped. Wanda watched the patterns form, completely transfixed. She could almost decipher something in the cup when, on impulse, she dumped it out into the sink. Within seconds she had replaced the tea with a bottle of whiskey and was taking a long pull. For the briefest of moments, she had sensed her hands beginning to glow that familiar crimson shade before she squashed it once more. She couldn’t quite place when she had let things get this bad. 

She was pulled from her reverie by the beeping of the smoke alarm. “Shit,” she murmured, rushing over to pull the burning eggs off the stove. Just toast today, then. Wanda glared at the burnt mess with disdain. She washed the buttered crumbs of the toast down with more whiskey and was already beginning to feel pleasantly warm. Her eyes found the clock. Half seven in the morning. Ah well, could be worse. 

Thirty minutes later, after she had a veritable battle with the pan in an effort to get the burnt egg off (a battle in which she was only moderately successful), Wanda was settled in front of the television, her second whiskey in hand. She had even put it in a glass this time. Here she would stay until approximately three in the morning, or she was unable to keep her eyes open any longer - whichever came first. Rinse. Repeat. Such was the life of Wanda Maximoff. 

The buzzing of her phone pulled her gaze from the electric coma where she took solace; her eyes moved to see what familiar name would flicker across the screen this time. The had all been trying to contact her - those that were left, at least - but she never answered. She had a collection of voicemails slowly building up. She ignored the digital pleas. Clint, Natasha, hell they had even had Peter call her once, jabbering away about how he could rebuild Vision with Shuri’s help, of only she would come back. 

“No,” she had replied, her voice scathing. “It won’t be him. It won’t be the same.” 

 

“He’s, uh… but he’s a robot. We could program him to remember…” 

Wanda had thrown her phone across the room with a mighty yell, her hands aglow with her rage. It required all her strength to subdue her powers once more, something that had become a daily struggle. She drank that memory away with another sip of her whiskey. Her phone lit up again, and Wanda sent it to voicemail without sparing the name so much as a glance. 

If she could have predicted the next series of events that were about to occur, she may have simply answered the damn phone. In the blink of an eye, a glowing ring appeared in front of her, out of it a hand appeared and grabbed her by the collar, tugging her into a place she had only been told about. Wanda looked around the room she now found herself in with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance; Stephen Strange focused his attention on the bottle still clutched in her hands. 

 

“You would think, with all of Scotland around you, that you would at least pick up a decent bottle of liquor. Scotch, perhaps,” he quipped. 

“Put me back,” she replied. 

Instead, Strange stepped away from her and took a seat in an elaborate-looking chair.

“Who do you think you are?” she continued, following after him. “You cannot simply pull someone from their home, unannounced!” A second chair seemed to appear behind her, swooping in and causing her to fall into it. She gripped the bottle of whiskey tightly to keep herself from throwing it. 

“Ah, but I did try calling. You didn’t answer. Perhaps you misplaced your phone for the past six months?” 

Wanda ignored his words and the stupid twinkle in his eye. “How did you find me? I was promised peace and privacy.” 

“I sensed you.” Strange’s look felt as if it was trying to bore into her. “As the Sorcerer Supreme, it is my duty to protect the Earth from magical and metaphysical attack,” he said simply.

Wanda stared at him. “So?”

“So, it seems your powers register somewhere on that scale.” 

“You can sense when I use my powers… this is why I have not been using them.” 

“Except at approximately two in the morning, British standard time, when you used your telekinesis to pull the blanket up. One slip was enough to pinpoint you, I’m afraid,” Strange said lightly. 

Wanda rolled her eyes. “One slip up, or perhaps you delight in stalking me.” She opened the bottle she was still clutching and took a swig. “I have already told you and the others. I am not coming back. Not yet.” 

“It’s been almost a year since our return…” 

“I need more time.” Her eyes wandered around the room, looking at the various relics on display.

“And we need more help. No one is asking you to live in a locked tower again, Wanda. Start checking in once in awhile, perhaps. Barton worries.” 

“I am not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.” 

Wanda could feel the power rushing to her hands. How long had she spent teaching herself to control it, only for it to slip when she least wanted it to? “No,” she whispered, willing the energy to retreat back into herself. She raked her fingers through her hair to distract them. When she looked up, Strange’s eyes were filled with something akin to pity. 

“Let me help you,” he said, standing and taking a step closer. “I can take you to the Masters of Mystic Arts for training. They will help you control the power within you. Or, if you prefer, I will train you myself.” 

Wanda set the bottle of whiskey down on the floor so she could rub her eyes. She held her face in her hands as she contemplated her reply. 

“We all lost someone we cared about, Wanda,” Strange continued. “You don’t need to suffer alone.” 

“You sound like Clint,” she murmured. “He said the same thing to Natasha when she wanted to leave, after… after they brought us back.” 

“He’s right, you kn--”

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong here?” she interrupted. “Like you weren’t meant to be brought back. There is a part of me that feels missing. Not because of Vision, or Pietro, or even my parents. It is like I have a foot in this world and another foot in whatever that place was, where we were sent. Do you feel it too?” She looked up at Strange, her eyes full of questions. He looked away. 

“If you would let us help you…” 

“No. I am not ready. Not yet.” 

Stephen squinted at her, then something in him relented. “Very well,” he said at last. “But do try to answer your phone at least, so I don’t find myself needing to pop by.” 

Wanda shot him a look full of daggers. “Noted. Now if you could return me to my home…” 

Strange obliged, standing up as he opened up another glowing portal with a swirl of his hand. “Take care, Wanda,” he said as she stood up and snatched her bottle of whiskey. She stepped through the portal back into her own home, and his voice called after her. “It isn’t your fault, you know.” 

Before she could answer, that gateway into New York was gone. 

Wanda looked at her cell phone, still sitting on the coffee table where she left it. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it flying into the wall. The sound it made as the screen shattered brought her a sense of satisfaction. 

She didn’t really have a plan in mind as she moved through her house, looking for a duffle bag. All she know is that she couldn’t stay here anymore, not if one of her former teammates could show up at any moment to remind her of the past that she so desperately wanted to forget. She located the bag in question and began to shove various items into it. First, the necessities: toiletries, underwear, bras, clothing, what money she had in the house. Next came the sentimental items: old jewelry, a couple of photographs. She pulled off the sweater that she was wearing and shoved that in there, too. 

As she dressed herself, finally shoving her pajamas into the now too-full bag, she contemplated where she might go. There was no family or distant relations with whom she could take refuge. Not that she would want to anyway - too obvious. She couldn’t trust anyone who had ever been associated with the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D., which largely eliminated everyone she had interacted with for the past several years. No, there was no one that Wanda could turn to in this moment, which meant she had to rely on herself this time. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. It had been a long time since she’d put on this worn red leather jacket, but something about it made her instantly feel more like herself. Like the old Wanda. 

Minutes later and she was out in the cool Scottish morning, breathing in the crisp air deeply. Her feet automatically carried her to the bus station. She would miss Edinburgh; as foolish as it had been for her to return to the same place she resided before, she couldn’t help but feel like this city had become her home. It was the only place she had felt comfortable ever since leaving Sokovia. 

Wanda stepped into the bus station, her eyes scanning over upcoming departure times until she found one that left within the hour. Perfect. She stepped up to the ticket clerk, pulling out a small wad of money. “One for the ten o’clock bus, please,” she said, handing over the fare. 

The young man selling tickets seemed wholly uninterested in his job, but as he glanced up at Wanda’s face, he paused for a moment. She felt herself tense up at his squinted gaze, ready to dash out of the station if need be. Whatever inspired his hesitation, however, clearly passed as he resumed looking bored once more. “One way?” he asked, already punching it in before she could even nod. Wanda shoved the money at him as he held out the ticket for her. “Enjoy London,” he said blandly. 

Wanda did not rest again until she was sitting on the bus, her eyes closed, body focused on breathing. 

London. 

She would go to London, and figure it out from there.


	2. London Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making friends is overrated.

It was nearly a ten hour bus trip from Edinburgh to London via the fastest route. By the second hour, Wanda sat sprawled in her seat, her bag occupying the one next to her. Mercifully, she had thus far been spared the uncomfortable and unwanted camaraderie that came along with being seated next to another passenger for several hours. If the bag hadn’t been enough to discourage her fellow passengers from sitting next to her, the loud music leaking from her headphones surely did the trick. Her face firmly set in a scowl that would cause even Steve Rogers, rest his soul, to rethink striking up a conversation, Wanda let the music drown out the rest of the world. 

As the Scottish countryside rolled by, it struck Wanda just how green everything was. The rolling hills were something from a painting. She had been living in the city so long that she had nearly forgotten that there was actual nature out there to be enjoyed. She felt a small twinge in her chest, something she couldn’t immediately name. Longing? Wanderlust? Perhaps her seemingly impromptu journey wasn’t so random after all. 

The problem with direct bus routes is twofold. Firstly, people tend to get bored. With no scheduled stops to allow the more antsy passengers a chance to stretch their legs, people became more likely to attempt social interaction. Secondly, you’re forced to use the loo on the bus if you can’t manage to hold your urine for nine hours. Given that Wanda had been helping herself to whiskey most of the morning, she found herself in the tiny, dingy toilet room on a moving bus that seemed to hit bumps in the road at the most inconvenient times. 

Within the privacy of the loo, Wanda looked into the tiny mirror and contemplated the girl staring back at her. She had stopped dying her hair red some time ago, her dark locks returned to their natural color. No one was looking for Wanda Maximoff, anymore. Not since the status quo (if one could call it that) had been restored. Even if they were looking for her, would they recognize what they found? She would be twenty-five soon, though she could pass for older. Twenty-five, directionless, sustained by alcohol and the pain of the past - it showed in her eyes. She was living off of the money left to her by the Avengers, and it would run out at some point. 

Wanda often wondered what would have become of her had she and Pietro never agreed to the testing. Would she still be living in Sokovia? Would she have ever gone back to school? There was a time in her life where she wanted to be a doctor

Leaving her seat had been her first mistake. Taking so long in the restroom had been her second. 

Wanda stared at the back of the head of the man that was now occupying the seat she had temporarily abandoned. Her eyes quickly scanned the remainder of the bus for an open space, anything that wouldn’t force her to sit next to a stranger. Somehow, though she could not come up with a reasonable explanation why, it appeared that the seat directly next to him was now the only one available. Strange. Her face set and her music turned up, Wanda shifted her bag off her shoulder and sat unceremoniously next to the seat stealer. She felt him turn towards her, felt him looking at her, but she kept herself facing resolutely forward. 

Don’t try to talk to me, don’t try to talk to me, don’t…

“Hullo,” came the voice. 

Wanda closed her eyes slowly, hoping that he would assume she hadn’t heard him and give up. He didn’t. 

“Heading into London as well?” 

Slowly turning to look at him, Wanda was met with the too-eager eyes of a young man who clearly didn’t know how to take a hint. She pointed to her headphones; he seemed unphased. 

“I’m Victor, by the way,” he added, holding out his hand. 

She looked at the outstretched hand, then up to the young man. Early twenties, she’d guess. A student, but well-dressed - he came from money. She quickly concluded he was an American studying abroad in the UK, which, to her, was the most annoying combination of person she could possibly have the misfortune to be sitting near. 

 

“Chi hacharav,” she responded, a phrase she recalled her mother using when she didn’t want to be bothered by pushy salesmen. It therefore brought her an amount of satisfaction when he gave her a surprised look. 

“Chi, huh? That’s an interesting name. Are you from London, Chi?” 

Wanda finally pulled off her headphones and looked at him directly. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone slightly less than friendly. 

“Oh! You’re not British,” he concluded, nodding slowly. “Just going into London for a visit, then? I’m actually here for a science competition, myself. Part of my graduate degree. Figured I’d see as much of the UK as I can while I’m here. Are you in school yourself, Chi?” 

“No.” 

No matter how much Wanda looked annoyed, Victor did not seem to be deterred. He jabbered away incessantly about mechanical engineering, robotics, and the stupid science competition he was really confident he would do well in. 

“That’s nice,” was all Wanda said, trying to make it clear to this oblivious kid that she was not interested in conversation right now. When he started bragging that he was going to build a suit better than Iron Man ever had, she had finally had enough.  
“I’m really tired,” Wanda said, forcing herself to yawn. “I’m going to nap the rest of the way.” Without waiting for a response, she put her headphones back on and closed her eyes. 

“Have a nice nap!” she heard, though his voice was muffled. 

It wasn’t a lie - she was exhausted. Thanks to the chatterbox next to her, however, Wanda found it impossible to actually fall asleep. Instead she sat there with her eyes closed for the next couple of hours, hoping that she wouldn’t have to pee again before they reached London. By some miracle, she made it through. Wanda didn’t stop to say goodbye to Victor as the passengers all hurried to gather their things and disembark. She grabbed her bag with speed she didn’t even know she was capable of and made her way through the crowd without looking back. The only problem was that Wanda had never been to London before, didn’t know where she was going, and didn’t have a phone to guide her. 

Wanda stood there at Victoria Coach Station with several pressing needs: food, shelter, and somewhere to pee. Her eyes connected with a sign indicating restrooms ahead; at least one of those needs was easily met. 

Several minutes later Wanda stood at the sink, washing her hands and carefully listening to the banter from a group of girls who had followed her into the ladies room. They were arguing over something, and it caught her attention. She glanced at the mirror and saw the three of them huddled together. Their accents said they were British, but they were obviously from out of town. The size of their bags indicated they’d only be here for a night or two at most. She dried her hands slowly as she weighed the fact that she was trying to go incognito versus the fact that she had a limited amount of money and absolutely no idea where to go from here. 

“No, that one has shit reviews!” said one girl, pointing at another one’s phone. “The one I found was better.” 

“I am not paying 150 quid a night for you to be a fucking princess,” said a second girl, who Wanda took to be the leader of the group. She was tall, lanky, and had that sort of arrogant smile of someone who was used to others following after her. Her shock of purple hair and tattoo peeking out above her blouse, though, meant that she fancied herself a rebel. “You can slum it with us for two bloody nights.” 

“No concert is worth getting bedbugs!” 

Here was her opportunity. “Excuse me,” Wanda said in her best American accent as she turned to face the group of three girls. “Do you know a good place to stay around here?” 

________________ 

They quizzed her regarding her musical preferences over burgers and chips, with Wanda’s eclectic taste winning her bonus points. She had been right in deducing that the purple-haired girl was the de facto leader - Gemma was her name, 22 years old, and an arts student, thereby checking every box in the rebel stereotype column. She was flanked by Chloe, the one that had expressed concern about bed bugs, and Em (just Em), who was at this moment still an enigma. 

“So. What brings you to the shithole that is London?” Gemma asked as she drowned her chips in vinegar. 

“Just visiting,” Wanda said vaguely. She took a sip of her soda and vaguely wished that it had alcohol in it. 

“Are you doing the backpack across Europe thing?” Chloe asked, leaning her chin on her hand. “I hear that’s very popular with Americans especially.” 

“Yeah, the soul-searching bit? Figuring out who you are and all that? Isn’t that for posh kids? You ought to try it, Chloe. Maybe you’d be less of a clean freak when you got back,” Gemma shot back.

“Uh, I guess you could call it that.” 

“Where are you headed next?” Chloe asked, still glaring at Gemma. 

“I’m not really sure.” 

“You should go to Amsterdam,” Gemma suggested, picking at her fries some more. “Have you ever been to a coffeeshop in Amsterdam? They’re wicked - just don’t drink the coffee.” 

“Why would you go to a coffee shop and not buy coffee?” Chloe asked. 

“Because they’re actually dispensaries,” Em piped in. Wanda was pretty sure it was the first time she’d heard the girl’s voice since learning her name. “They just call them coffeeshops because they can’t advertise that they’re selling weed.” 

“Drinking is my only vice,” Wanda said, sipping at her plain soda once more with disappointment. 

“Yeah?” Gemma suddenly perked up again. “Let’s go out tonight and see if the American has what it takes to keep up.” 

Wanda opened her mouth to protest but then remembered - she was pretending to be American. “I don’t really go out,” she said, holding up a hand. “I’m good with staying behind at the hostel.”  
“Oh no,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “We insist you come out for a pint.” 

“Or ten,” Gemma offered. 

“Yeah, I’m not really into crowds…” 

“It’s no use,” Em advised. “Once Gemma sets her mind to something, you may as well go along with it and save us the whinging.” 

“See? It’s settled then. We’re going on a pub crawl tonight.” Gemma smiled at Wanda, who suddenly felt that her initial assessment of the girl was entirely accurate. This is what she got for looking for roommates in a loo.

 

_________________

It took some convincing from the other girls, but somehow Wanda found herself putting on the only dress she had shoved into her bag and allowing Gemma to swipe dark eyeshadow onto her lids. Wanda couldn’t remember the last time she had been out, or the last time she danced. It had been a long time since she’d felt comfortable in crowds. Even as the girls all grabbed their coats to begin the night’s revelries, she felt her anxiety rising. “Maybe I’ll stay in tonight,” she suggested, only to be met with the chorus of objections from the other three. And so, for the sake of having something to do, she allowed herself to be pulled out into the cold London night. 

As they were walking towards the first pub on Gemma’s surprisingly extensive list for someone who wasn’t local, Wanda was suddenly hit with a realization. She had never gone out with friends like this before. From the time her parents had been killed until his death, it had always been her and Pietro. By the time they came of age, there were already in the facility, and from there it had been a series of strange events that prevented Wanda from making friends her own age. It wasn’t a sad realization, exactly, but it gave her the strange feeling like she didn’t belong in this world, not really. Before she could ponder on her newfound existentialism, however, she was being pulled into the first pub of the evening. 

The plus side of being dragged out pub hopping was that it suddenly became socially acceptable for Wanda to have a glass of whiskey in her hands at all times. This was a great comfort to her, as it gave her something to focus on when Chloe’s incessant leaning past her to talk to Gemma started to become unbearably annoying. While they were occupied arguing over the best underground bands, Wanda scanned the pub, making note of the great variety of people who had come to drink there. In spite of the very lively conversation happening around her, Wanda could sense someone walking towards them and sitting on Chloe’s left. Involuntarily, she tensed up and listened. 

“Hullo,” came the man’s voice. 

“Hi…” said Chloe. Wanda side-eyed him and took a long pull from her whiskey. 

“You look like you’re having a grand time,” he continued with a light chuckle. At this point Wanda turned to get a better look at him, though her body still felt tense. Next to her, Chloe seemed completely relaxed and was smiling.

“Oh yeah, loads of fun.” 

“Can I get you a refill?” he asked, pointing to the empty pint in front of her.

Before Chloe could manage a response, Gemma jumped up on Wanda’s right. “Come on, lasses, we’re headed to the next pub,” she said quickly, tossing on her coat. “I’ve picked up this tab, so you all owe me. Are you coming, Chloe?” 

“Right, er… guess we’re off. Sorry,” Chloe said to the mystery guy, who looked disappointed. Wanda’s brows creased but she said nothing, instead grabbing her coat with the others and heading out the door. 

“Ah, Gem, I think you screwed Chloe out of date,” Em said, amused. 

“What? No, he just offered to buy me a drink…” 

“That’s tantamount to begging you to go on a date,” Em said knowingly. “What was his name?”

“Dunno, he only just said hullo.” 

“Oh, come off it,” Gemma snapped. “I know just the pub to go to next.” She huffed off, Chloe following after her. Wanda sped up to fall in step with Em. 

“Is she always like this?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on the bright purple hair in front of them.

“She’s a little possessive over Chloe,” the other girl acknowledged, tossing back her dark hair. “I’m pretty sure they fucked once like a year ago and Gemma hasn’t gotten over it. She goes bonkers every time someone flirts with Chloe. It’s a bit funny, really.” 

“I see,” Wanda said slowly. “And I’m guessing that happens often?” 

Em shrugged. “Blokes love petite blondes with big tits.” 

Once again, Wanda found herself wishing she had simply left that bathroom without saying anything. 

They stayed at the second pub for all of ten minutes before Gemma, still agitated, picked a fight with one of the bartender’s over the music that was playing, and they were asked to leave. 

Around their fourth stop, Gemma decided that they needed a completely different change of pace. In spite of being a seasoned drinker, Wanda was feeling warm enough at this point to go along with whatever. She didn’t notice the name of the pub Gemma brought them to, having been distracted by a stray black cat that seemed to take a liking to her. She was reaching down to pet it when she found herself being pulled inside by Chloe. 

To say that this place was different was something of an understatement. It took less than half a second to realize that the patrons of this pub were almost entirely female, the bartenders were female, the DJ was female, and there were two blondes decidedly making out in the corner right by the entrance. 

“Oh… it’s a lesbian bar.” 

“Yeah? Does that bother you?” Gemma asked, her arm now firmly wrapped around Chloe’s waist. 

“No,” Wanda replied truthfully. “Anywhere that serves whiskey is fine with me.” She needn’t have bothered responding, though, as the two girls were already disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor. 

“Come on,” Em said, nodding towards the bar. “I’m going to need to be drunk if I have to deal with that inevitable shit show later.” 

“A lot more drunk,” Wanda agreed, following after her. 

The two girls wedged themselves in at the bar, and Em ordered up a round of shots. “In celebration of watching others make poor decisions,” she declared, clinking her tequila shot with Wanda’s. She downed hers, and immediately ordered another round. Her first shot still in her hand, Wanda paused, looking at her curiously. 

“You seem agitated,” she observed. 

“You seem entirely too calm for someone who is also probably going to get kicked out of their room tonight by Possessive and Passive over there.” 

Admittedly, Wanda had not considered that. The perks of living alone were that the only drunken escapades that kept her from sleeping in her bed were her own, and those usually involved falling asleep on the couch with the TV on. 

Em downed another shot. Wanda frowned.  
“You should slow down,” she suggested. “Even I’m starting to feel drunk watching you, and I’ve spent the better part of the past two years training to be an alcoholic.” 

“Ah, fuck off,” Em said. “I’m fine.” 

As time went on, however, it became increasingly clear to Wanda that Em was not, in fact, fine. At one point Wanda went to fetch her some water only to find that she’d wandered onto the dance floor and started an argument with Gemma, leaving a dazed-looking Chloe dancing by herself. She caught bits and pieces of the argument as she made her way over to the other girls, getting angry and wondering if this sort of ridiculous behavior was normal for people in their twenties.

“You PROMISED you weren’t going to pull this!” Em accused loudly. 

“We’re just having fun,” Gemma argued back. “Come off it. You’re bloody sloshed.” 

“You said it would be grand, we’re all going to hang out and it’ll be like old times. My arse!” 

At this point the lights, the music, the arguing… all of it was giving Wanda a headache. “Hey,” she said, speaking up. “Maybe I can walk with Em back to the hostel,” she suggested, trying to diffuse the tension between the two. 

“Yeah, and tell the jealous bint to fuck off while she’s at it,” Gemma snapped before turning back to Chloe and pulling the smaller girl into a kiss.

“This is ridiculous,” Wanda said under her breath. She turned to tell Em it was time to go… only to find that Em wasn’t there. 

_I’m never going out again_ , she thought. 

__________________ 

After frantically searching the pub, Wanda stumbled out into the night, looking around wildly. She was so tempted to push herself up into the air, even for the briefest of moments, so that she could get a better view of the area around her. There was Strange to consider, though, and she didn’t want anyone even loosely associated with the Avengers to know her whereabouts. 

“Shit,” she said under her breath, and started to run. 

She had a sick feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t shake. She looked down every alley way she passed, fully on alert. “Em!” she yelled, with no response. From up ahead of her, she could hear a group of guys laughing, which only pushed her forward faster. When she caught up to the noise, her heart dropped.  
There were three men around her, one with his arm around her shoulder and stooped low, evidently talking to her. Em was clearly out of it, barely even able to stand up at this point. 

“You want to come back to me place?” the one holding her asked. “I’ll make sure you feel loads better, love.” The other ones laughed. 

“Hey!” Wanda demanded. “Get away from her!” In her anger, her accent slipped slightly. The trio rounded on her. 

“Oi, what’s this here boys? We got ourselves another one. What’s your name, sweetheart?” the main goon said, pulling Em still closer. 

Wanda’s mind raced. She could feel the energy naturally rushing ot her hands, could feel the power start to course through her body. “I said back away from her, before I make you back away.” 

Her demand was met with laughter. One of them stepped toward her, his eyes gleaming. “Oi, John, I think this one wants to have a go.” He took another step towards her, and with no further thought Wanda sent him flying backwards. So much for keeping a low profile. 

The other two stared at her, seeming to weigh their options. “She’s one of those freaks,” the one called John said, releasing Em, who was far too out of it to look as frightened as she should have. “People like you ought to be locked up.” 

“They tried that once,” Wanda replied, her hands still glowing. “It didn’t work out so well for them.” 

“Scum like you deserved to be shot.” As his hand creeped towards his coat pocket, Wanda seized it in a ball of energy. 

“This won’t end well for you,” she warned. 

She almost didn’t catch the movement out of the corner of her eye in time. Just a glint of silver in the streetlight before she realized their friend had recovered himself and was attempting to sneak up behind her. Her brain didn’t even register how close the knife was when she sent all three boys up into the air, then back towards the bin behind them. The knife clattered to the ground beside her. 

What Wanda had not anticipated, however, was that only two of the three made it into the open bin as she intended. The sickening crack as the third crashed into the metal sides sent a rush of panic through her. There was blood. 

“No, no….”  
Her heart pounded in her chest as her hand flew to her hair, fingers raking through her locks as her mind raced. Stomach acid snaked its way up her body, and she suddenly felt the need to vomit. In that moment she had a choice - do the right thing, or run. 

Wanda rushed forward, grabbed Em by the waist, and propelled them both up into the air. 

_________ 

As it turns out, it takes police just over ten minutes to respond to 999 calls in London, on a good day. It took Stephen Strange all of five minutes to make it to the poorly lit alleyway, and that was only because he hadn’t had any pants on. He pressed his fingers to the boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse. 

Christ. 

Straightening up again, Stephen began moving his hand in a circular motion, figuring he start at the largest train station and go from there.

What Stephen didn’t anticipate, however, was that Wanda wouldn’t go directly the to train station. Instead, she was back at the hostel, frantically packing her things now that Em was safely in bed. She had been so stupid to use her powers like that - she should’ve had better control over the amount of force. She should’ve let it go. She should’ve never gotten involved with anyone here. 

Considering what she had just gone through, walking out into the night alone wasn’t her best plan of action. Train stations, train stations… No, she wouldn’t go to the train station. It would be too obvious. Could she splurge on a plane ticket? But there wouldn’t be any flights for hours, so she’d be a sitting duck. She had to get away from London, and she had to get away now. She nearly tripped on a stray cat as she stepped into the street, holding up her hand at an approaching taxi. For reasons she couldn’t remember, the word _Amsterdam_ came to mind, and it felt right. 

Only this time, she was getting a private room.


End file.
